


I Don't Want To Go All Romeo & Juliet

by aubreytruthfully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "gangs", High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreytruthfully/pseuds/aubreytruthfully





	I Don't Want To Go All Romeo & Juliet

Oh, he knew them. He knew them well. The bastard brothers who were constantly going around causing trouble—and this was coming from him—saying that they were part of a gang. Yeah, Dean knew them very well. 

He hated them. He hated them for giving his little brother shit all the time, he hated them for wrecking last Friday night’s football game, he hated them for getting his buddies in trouble, he hated them for tearing up shit around the town, he hated them for selling drugs to the athletes, he hated them for so many reasons that his brain couldn’t comprehend how infinite the number was. Right now, he hated them because they’d just flipped Sam’s tray over.

Dean grumbled, getting up from his table to walk over to Sam. Normally, Sammy was his geeky little brother who had no right hanging out with him. However, Sam was also his geeky little brother who was the only person in Dean’s life who really mattered. The three idiots were still laughing by the time he got over there. Sam just sat there, not challenging them, just letting it go, because that’s what Sam did best. Sam never wanted to fight.

“Think you’re real fucking funny?” Dean raised an eyebrow, making his best I-could-fucking-kill-you-if-I-wanted-to face, “Picking on a freshman?”

“Actually I thought it was very minor payback for the little tattletale who told the principal we were the ones who ‘vandalized’ the locker rooms,” the tall blonde one answered.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like little douchebags who think they’re from the fucking ‘hood’ or whatever,” Dean got up in his face, “You wouldn’t have those problems.”

There was only a little push necessary for Dean to knock—what was his name? Bal?—Balthazar the fuck out. He was right there on the edge, when he saw several teachers looking their way. Dean relaxed his arms by his side, he didn’t need to give anyone a reason to kick him off the football team; his grades were almost motivation enough for that anyway. Instead, they stood glaring at each other.

“You’re lucky Winchester,” Balthazar smirked, “I’d kill you right here if it wouldn’t send me back to juvy.”

The thing was, Dean was positive that the kid meant it. He knew that they all carried knives. There was always a strong possibility that when you got in a fight with them, you’d die. Dean knew that it wasn’t just a three-person gang, and he had no desire to find out who else was in alliance with them. Although, Dean still gave the three of them a glare as they walked away. 

One of them turned back to look, just for a second. It was the shortest of the three and Dean thought—just for a moment—that there was a hint of apology in his eyes. What was his name? Something with a G. There was Balthazar and Castiel—and Gabriel. Honestly, Dean didn’t know if those were their real names or some weird gang name assortment and the teachers went with it anyway. But why would that prick be sorry? There wasn’t any reason. That’s how Dean knew that he was just imagining it. He turned his attention back to his brother, who was throwing a big ol’ sulking party.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Sam mumbled coldly.

“Stop your bitchin’,” Dean rolled his eyes, “You should be a little more grateful about things Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam’s eyes looked up with an angry plead, “We’re at freaking school!”

“IT WAS NO PROBLEM SAMMY! YOU’RE MY LITTLE BROTHER, SAMMY!” Dean was shouting and grinning, “I KNOW THAT YOU’RE JUST A LITTLE FRESHMAN WHO CAN’T LOOK OUT FOR HIMSELF. I LOVE YOU ANYWAYS SAMMY!”

As he was walking back to his table, he knew that Sam had said something along the lines of “fuck you”. Everyone in the cafeteria was chuckling a little, which boosted Dean’s mood right back up.

His friends were laughing and high-fiving him when he got back. Of course, he wasn’t about to mention that the teachers were what stopped him from pounding Balthazar’s face until it was inside out. Dean blamed it on the fact that the three idiots were too scared to fight him and ran off. There was reason why Dean was popular, and his habit of telling wild stories out of his ass was one of the many reasons. He liked to think that his dashing good looks were a solid majority of it, his amazing sense of humor another reason, and his reputation with girls the last—maybe best—part of it.

After school, Dean couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the three brothers cleaning the paint from the locker room walls. The other players made a few teasing comments, but coach made them back off. They changed into their practice uniforms—ratty old things that they were—and he could’ve sworn he felt eyes on him. Not that he couldn’t understand why, but he sort of wanted to know who was giving him the stare down.

Probably Castiel, everyone called him a faggot all the time. Not to his face, nobody wanted to get shot, stabbed, or some variation of the two.

Practice went well, coach even told him that he was hitting harder and better. Dean knew that he was good. He had managed to be the only starting sophomore on the varsity team back when he was 16. Now, he considered himself the star of the defensive side. Then again, he was positive that most people who cared about their school’s sports at all considered him that too. He was a star—what could he say?

The coach held him on the field to talk, so by the time Dean got into the locker rooms, everyone had found their way out. Astonishingly, the only other person in there was Gabriel. Dean squinted his eyes, just to make sure, because the kid was still scrubbing away at the paint. Actually, the paint was almost completely gone. 

“Your gang leave you,” Dean mocked, slipping his pads off.

“Fuck off,” Gabriel spat back, keeping his focus on scrubbing.

For some reason, Dean felt remorse. He hated that feeling. Dean didn’t get it very often—he didn’t live a life of regrets. Mostly he got it after making Sammy so pissed that he didn’t talk to him for three days or when he didn’t make the perfect tackle during a game. 

“Why’re you still here anyways,” Was Dean honestly starting a conversation with this punk?

“Bal and Cas bailed on me,” he could’ve sworn that there was a bitter tone in his voice, but that seemed so uncharacteristic.

“Right,” No. No. No. He was not about to do this. This was so damn stupid and pointless, “Here, I’ll help you out.”

Gabriel gave him a confused look when Dean kneeled down beside him and pulled a sponge from the bucket of soapy water. There was no part of him that understood why exactly he was helping with this. These idiots put their gang sign all over the school and town and vehicles and anything with a surface. It wasn’t that everyone didn’t know who did it, but sometimes they managed to slip their way out of getting in trouble. Sam ruined it this time though. It made him almost proud of his brother, but he knew that Sammy was a total tattletale.

They cleaned in silence for a few minutes. He was surprised at how not awkward the whole experience truly was. He was more surprised when his eyes happened to trail down the wet tank top currently glued to Gabriel’s body. Yeah, that was definitely more shocking.

“I’m not complaining,” Gabriel spoke keeping his tone neutral and even, “but, uh, why the fuck are you helping me right now?”

“No idea,” Dean shrugged, “You just looked super pitiful cleaning this by yourself.”

It got quiet again, no questions asked. They finished the job and the wall was sparkling clean once more. There wasn’t a goodbye said between them, they both just left out opposite sides of the room. Dean glanced behind him just once, wondering what just happened.

He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about Gabriel after that day. That weird interaction between them was enough to keep his mind far too preoccupied. Occupied enough that his teacher suggested going to the library to study after school because he was going to fail the test tomorrow if he didn’t work in some study time. His teachers knew well enough that there was no chance in hell Dean would study at home. Home was for parties, eating, watching TV, hanging out with Sammy, and other things he enjoyed. Homework? Yeah, other people did that for him. Studying? Yeah, Sammy helped him with that when he was inclined. Tests? As long as he passed, baby, it was all good.

This time he took the teacher’s advice—almost entirely due to the fact that he was barely passing the class and coach would be more than pissed if he couldn’t play in the game because of his grades. Making his way to the library, Dean ran his fingers across the lockers. The doors were wooden and heavy—the only wooden doors in the school—and when he came in there were only a few people scattered. Settling in, he pulled out his notebook and textbook. It was time to review all the things he literally could care less about.

Chemistry terms were bolded on the page: ionic bonds, stoichiometry, Lewis structures. It all seemed vaguely familiar. Then again, they’d spent a couple weeks talking about all of these things, so they should seem familiar. He felt someone leaning over him and almost expected it to be Sammy (little bitch probably going to ramble on about how pathetic it was that he was just now in chemistry).

“Want some help?” that was certainly not the anticipated voice.

“Huh?” Dean tilted his head back and found himself staring into the bizarrely golden eyes of Gabriel.

“Studying,” Gabriel looked at him like he was possibly the dumbest person to ever exist, “Do. You. Want. Some. Help?”

“Look, I don’t need your fucking help,” Dean retorted, “Just because I helped you clean up my locker room, doesn’t mean I need your pity. It was a one time deal.”

“Whatever you prick,” Gabriel scoffed, “I was just trying to pay you back. Jesus!” he threw his hands up in frustration.

Dean tapped his pencil angrily at the desk. He did need help. Studying wasn’t his strong point, but what could Gabriel possibly know? The kid failed most of his classes. Everyone knew that. In fact, Dean was shocked just by seeing him in the library.   
Studying got harder, every few minutes Dean would flick his eyes up from the page to watch Gabriel. What was up with this kid? He was supposed to be some punk-ass, rule breaker, who couldn’t read past a fourth grade level. He was supposed to be violent, rude, and exactly like all the gang members that Dean always saw on TV. He was supposed to be everything that Dean absolutely loved to hate and loved to beat the shit out of. However, Gabriel was none of those things—was he? Shouldn’t he be?

Gabriel was soft, gentle, and thorough with his work. Gabriel might be smart, respectful, and kind. Maybe Gabriel didn’t like the violence, maybe he was polite and different from anyone that Dean had ever gotten to meet. Perhaps, Gabriel was everything that Dean wanted. Although, those seemed like very forward thoughts. Why couldn’t he get him out of his head? What was it about him that drove Dean’s level of curiosity off the charts? Finally, Dean got up, carrying his things, and tossed them down on the table Gabriel was working at.

“Can I take you up on that offer?” Dean muttered, a little ashamed.

“Are you going to be a total dick the entire time?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to be nice,” Dean clenched his jaw, “being polite.”

“Okay,” Gabriel gave an almost smile, “sit down.”

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t understand why Gabriel knew all of this stuff. He sounded like a fucking famous chemist with the way he was talking. This was supposed to be the kid who actually failed a grade—hints why he was still a sophomore. Yet, here he was teaching Dean chemistry like it was the damned alphabet.

Slowly, the subject changed. They’d been studying for a while—even laughing on occasion—and somehow they ended up talking about other things. Dean was starting to believe that Gabriel wasn’t so bad. It shamed him to think it, but Dean was contemplating that maybe Gabriel was actually pretty awesome. The way those golden eyes were practically sparkling, hands gesturing, and a smile that should be illegal for anyone to have. All the while, Dean was forgetting about the tattoos hidden beneath Gabriel’s sleeves, the odds that he was probably carrying a knife somewhere, and that at any moment, cops could come in and arrest him for something that he was definitely guilty for. 

“Hey,” Gabriel stood up, “I need to go, um, I’ve got stuff I need to take care of.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nodded, standing up too.

“But,” Gabriel glanced down, “see you tomorrow or something?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nodded again, realizing that he had been a complete idiot during that entire goodbye thing.

The next day, Dean and Gabriel shared a few too many glances. It was suddenly apparent that Gabriel was everywhere. Dean could feel him whenever he came into the room, or the hall, or the same proximity. However, that soft, smiling look that Gabe had the day before, was replaced with a colder, harsher look. It reminded Dean that Gabriel wasn’t very cookie-cutter. Reminded Dean that Gabriel had probably killed someone at some point in his life. Suddenly, yesterday seemed very distant.

They didn’t talk for a couple weeks. Dean passed his chemistry test with a B+ (the teacher personally congratulated him). His team won the next two football games. Sam actually got a date with someone who Dean didn’t want to kill upon meeting. Their dad spent some time at home for a change. It was all great. Things were going great, but Dean’s eyes were still straying across the cafeteria to get a glimpse of Gabriel. He still found himself refraining from talking to the kid. 

“How’d you do on your test?” a familiar voice came from behind him.

Dean whipped around to find Gabriel standing behind him in the hallway. It was quiet, the school mostly empty. Dean had just finished practice and needed to stop by his locker. He hadn’t expected to see anybody.

“I got a B+ on it,” Dean closed his locker door.

“That’s awesome,” Gabriel seemed almost shy—which was more than a little unusual.

“Did you, uh, need something?” Dean licked his lips when those eyes looked back up at him.

“I was thinking,” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, “Maybe we could hang out sometime—or I could help you study. Just. I don’t know, something.”

“Look, thanks for helping me out,” Dean was hurt by his own words, “but I don’t even know anything about you. We’re not exactly the kind of people who hang out together.”

“Stereotypes are bullshit,” Gabriel rolled his eyes, “And I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”

The amounts of questions flying around in Dean’s brain were so vast that it almost astounded him. Why did he even care? There was no reason why he should be talking to Gabriel, much less considering befriending him. This kind of friendship could get him killed. He knew how rough it was on the non-suburban side of town. 

“You ever kill anyone?” And what the hell was that? Did Dean actually just ask that?

“Not personally,” Gabriel looked a little shocked, “but I’ve seen it happen. It happens when you’re with the people I’m with.”

“Drug deals?” now he already knew the answer to that.

“All the time.”

“Drug addiction?” he didn’t know about this one.

“Used to,” Gabriel shrugged, “I quit.”

“Do you see how this isn’t adding up for us to be buddy-buddy with each other,” Dean slung his backpack on his shoulders.

“You’re not asking the right questions!” Gabriel looked at him irritably.

“What am I supposed to be asking then?” Dean wasn’t sure why he was still standing there.

“I was supposed to be able to tell you that I really love science, and I don’t even hate school, and that I wished I would’ve never gotten involved in my brothers’ bullshit, but I didn’t have much of a choice, and that I come to the games every Friday night, and that I’m really not bad—I’m really not,” Gabriel sighed, “I just hang out with some bad people.”

“How do I know that you’re not just trying to lure me into the parking lot so your brothers can stab me or something?” Dean questioned, “Isn’t that what gangs do?”

“It’s not like that Dean,” Gabriel took a step closer, “I’m not like that. It’s confusing. You don’t know because you’re not on my side of the tracks.”

“Whatever,” Dean finally started walking away.

“Wait dammit!” Gabriel caught up to him and shoved him against the lockers, “I don’t know about you, but I can’t stop fucking thinking about you. I just know that you feel it. That you want this too!” Gabriel’s hands were gripping Dean’s shirt, “I don’t want to go all Romeo & Juliet on your ass, but there’s a bit of forbidden love going on here. Admit it.”

No, he wouldn’t admit it. Couldn’t admit it. Not aloud. But Gabriel’s hands were on him—but Dean wasn’t gay—but Gabriel’s eyes were staring into his fucking soul. Dean pulled the shorter kid up so their lips could finally touch. This was the epitome of wrong, and it felt so perfect. The guy tasted like candy—which Dean wasn’t complaining about—and it felt like Dean had been waiting his entire life for this one damn kiss. 

Didn’t Romeo & Juliet die at the end? Dean thought that he remembered that part from English I class. Gabriel’s hands pulled them even closer. Who the fuck cares if they die? At this point, Dean didn’t really care about anything else.

Things changed. Dean wasn’t about to admit much, but things did change. Maybe Sam stopped being fucked with daily. Maybe Dean started passing his tests. Maybe there was no more graffiti in the locker rooms. Maybe Dean noticed a certain someone at every football game. Maybe he would find little notes in his stuff from that same certain someone. Maybe he still heard about gang activity. Maybe he was always scared that someone wouldn’t show up at school because he was shot. Maybe Dean still hated Balthazar—although Castiel didn’t seem quite as bad.

He wasn’t going to admit to anything. Maybe.

And maybe Gabriel and Dean talked to each other whenever they could—got their hands on each other even more.

However, it was more than a maybe when Dean graduated and introduced his new college roommate to his boyfriend. Yeah, maybe he’d just admitted that there was a little Romeo & Juliet going on between them.

They weren’t going to die though, that was not a part of this particular story.


End file.
